Parallel Lines
by herschism
Summary: What makes a Death Eater so different from a Member of Order of the Phoenix? Both are pawns in a battle that isn't really theirs.


The Slytherin Common Room was never what one would call "well-lit." On the contrary, the room had a taste of comfortable coolness, a dark hiding hole for schemers and plotters. If a person listened hard enough while the room was empty, you could hear the regular sloshing of water. Not many people besides the Slytherins knew the dungeons in which they resided were underground by the lake, providing a murky and unclear light through the window to drift into the room on unusually sunny days. Although the room was not bright, there was a phosphorent glow emanating from the lamps, and strangely enough the decor, bending the touch of the room into a ethereal unreal place.The furniture itself was a dark jade color, bordered by silver trim, and the chairs were large, soft and covered with leather, requiring people to rely on their own to remain warm and comfortable. In this place of ambition and self sufficency, sat a lone Slytherin boy, staring out the window providing view of the swirling haze of water.

The boy was not attractive to say the least. He was extremely pale, with a long, thin face with sharp curves giving him a harsh look that exaggerated his complexion and his rather large hooked nose. His eyes were black, and shined with deadly cunning. Dark greasy hair fell in shiny strands in front of his face, obscuring his view of the world and their view of him. However, it did not detract from his bad posture, or his gaunt lanky frame. He was gazing out into the void, his legs curled up on the ledge by the window, off in a paranoid world full of double dealings and betrayals.

Unlike the other common rooms of the school, the Slytherin Common Room was rarely occupied, unless a higher power directly told the students to stay there, and even then only when the room was sealed under the watchful eye of the faculty or the very magic of Hogwarts. The reason for this was obvious, it was never safe to plot around others, especially around other plotters. The distrust amongst the house was so great, that students rarely studied in there either. For the Slytherin, the ultimate goal was to satsify your ambitions. Not that the boy, Severus Snape, was not doing so. He simply had a different manner of doing it than the others.

As Snape's contemplation ran deep, he did not notice the Slytherins sliding behind him. He stiffened when he heard the familiar shadowy voice of Bellatrix Black. "Hey, Mudblood." she whispered her standard greeting for all that fell below her idea of blood purity. "Got that potion we... requested?" Her long fingers began dancing across the back of his neck, in a manner much resembling a cat playing with her prey.

Snape refused to shudder. This, like all things in interactions with Slytherins, was a test. It always was a test in this world. Stopping after she realized Snape would not react, she hissed in his ear, "Well, Mudblood?" this time her tone was annoyed, clearly angered by his obstinance, her face contorted from her cold distant beauty to an animalistic, predatory expression.

Turning, Snape surveyed who she brought with her; the Lestrange brothers (Brutes), Nott (Dangerous), and a fourth year he recognized as Barty Crouch Jr (Wild Card). Sneering, he reached into his pocket, causing Bellatrix's consorts to stiffen and reach quickly for their wands (Excluding Crouch, who simply stared at Snape, appraising him), only to be stopped on Bellatrix's hand gesture. The object Snape retrieved from his pocket was not a wand as what the group expected, but a vial filled with opaque dubious liquid. He held it gingerly toward Bellatrix, and snapped his hand back suddenly when she reached for it.

"My compensation." He drawled.

Bellatrix smiled. "True Slytherin, despite your unfortunate blood. Of course I have it." At this, she took out a bag from her robes, and carefully let it's contents fall out, a single flower, freshly picked. "I hope your potions are as good as Slughorn says they are, Snape." They both knew the message had been carried forth. 'If this fails, you'll be next.' was the unspoken threat between the both of them, Bellatrix's use of Snape's name acting as both a compliment and a threat.

"It will work, Black, I would be more worried about you gilting me in some way, or having defiled the pure flower simply with your presence." Carefully, Snape laid the vial down by the flower and picked up his prize, examining it tenaciously. It was a simple white calla lily, easy to obtain in the Muggle world, but hard to maintain in the least magical of places.

Magic is contained with impurities, which allows wizards and witches to manipulate the the natural world, preferably with the use of a focus. However, the calla lily remains the most pure of all flowers, and its properties make it ideal for potions because of that utter purity. The sudden defilement of the plant causes the flower to become a different color at best, and at worst, stripping a wizard or witch of their magical power forever. It was illlegal to trade, and difficult to harvest without extreme injury. Snape had neither the connections, nor the raw power needed to construct a strong enough Anti-Magic Field to surround the flower and ensure it would not simply distingrate under the raw magics of the castle. The barrier on the blossom burned his hand as he held it on the flat of his palm, appraising its quality.

"What are you going to do with it?" Bellatrix eyed Snape cautiously, ever suspicious.

"And should I ask the same thing of you?" Snape sneered. "I'm sure we're all curious to see whose goblet gets the Continual Bleeding Potion. You see, Black, I simply don't trust you with that information."

"Whatever it is you're going to do, you do realize that despite your inferior blood, you have a place with us. You have proved yourself many times."

"I have no hate for Muggles in general, Black, I find the idea of causing pain to JUST Muggles to be of no help to myself. There are those far more deserving than just defenseless Muggles."

The dark woman snorted, brushing some of her thick black hair behing her ear giving Snape a clearer view of her expression. "At least it isn't bullshit about killing Muggles is wrong. I forget that you don't care for doing anything that won't benefit yourself. Selfish boy, it would do the world good if you helped us."

"Hurting for the sake of hurting is barbaric, Black. There are studies of Dark Arts that deal with things other than physical pain. It takes a much more gifted person to break one by penetration of the mind while they remain blissfully unaware, believing their own faults the cause of their suffering, manipulating the the world to only their senses, harvesting their innocence little by little." Snape's expression was dubious, clouded by the thoughts of breaking a person's mind. "Simply cursing is the lowest form of cruelty. Such things should be used for battles, not as hobbies. And as the moment, my only desire is knowledge from a teacher who would understand that, so attempting to buy me simply with your family's money will not work."

Instead of appearing insulted, a thoughtful look flicked across Bellatrix's face. "Oh... If that is the case, why have you not inflicted your oh-so-subtle way of pain upon those Gryffindors, say while they hung you upside down and took off your pants?" The Lestranges and Nott giggled, but Barty Crouch's face remained passive, his attention unwavering on the power struggle in the room.

An ugly flush spread across Snape's pallid face. "As you well know, Black, I was ambushed by your _blood traitor_ cousin and Potter. His voice had dropped into a whisper, calling attention to Bellatrix's relation, instead of distancing it as many people might believe the effect would have. "To even get out a few curses was hard enough. There is fine lines in the magic I prefer to use, if it failed, it could have been disasterous. These things take time--."

"And you're the most inept that ever stepped." Bellatrix hissed. "Snape, there is room for a thinker like you among us. Rest assured, our leader knows more about the Dark Arts than even you, and I am sure he would be willing to teach you."

"From what you describe of him, Black, he doesn't seem like the type to share knowledge or power. Until I see proof that I will get the knowledge I crave, I refuse." Snape stood up, and strided out of the common room.

Okay, so this is my first Harry Potter fanfic, and my first decent fanfic in years. Do not expect regular updates, and there is no foreseen end for it now. Basically, I wanted to do a Snape/Lily fanfic that would eventually turn into Snape/Harry. Also, there will be a running joke through out this story that I would be amused to have you all figure out. There is no plot, and all the foreshadowing is pretty much to be mysterious and perhaps inspire me.

Yeah. So it's going to be a fairly slow story, which I might not even finish. However, this does not mean I would not like critical reviews. I do want to know on how I can improve.

There will be slash if all goes well in my brain, but don't expect it anytime soon.

Thank you everyone for reading chapter one, and please read chapter two!


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